moving on with a sellotaped heart
by annabates21
Summary: Sian, after the wedding-that-wasn't. "She finds herself talking to Sophie – not for real or anything, and not even out loud, because she's not a nutter. But sort of…inside her head, yeah."
1. Chapter 1

**__**I haven't watched Corrie in a while, but I was browsing some youtube vids and I remembered how much I loved Sophie and Sian. Please, please, please review if you read!

* * *

**_"You're the one that I love – no-one else, not ever."_**

It's the kind of thing kids say, isn't it? The kind of thing you can say with a straight face when you're a teenager, because teenagers don't know any better. Like, you don't even know you're lying, because you don't know that it's not the truth.

Except in Sian's case. She'd said it, and she'd meant it, like any stupid teenager. But she hadn't _meant _to mean it – and surely everything that had happened since (the world's worst wedding, finding out that Sophie was a lying, cheating _scumbag_) should've soured every little bit of feeling she'd ever had for Sophie.

But it hadn't. That didn't mean that she was forgiving Sophie – not now, not _ever, _because there were some things you couldn't forgive…but it didn't stop Sian still loving her either.

She didn't want to, and everything she'd ever felt for Sophie bubbled into this awful miserable rage that pounded through her like a heartbeat. She told herself it was hatred, pure and simple.

It wasn't though.

* * *

The first bloke she sleeps with, after Sophie – his name is Patrick Carter. She doesn't know him all that well, and they're not, like, going out or anything. They just hang out with some of the same people.

It just…happens.

That's not exactly true. She _lets _it happen. Afterwards she's mortified and she feels like a complete slapper, because she's never done anything like that before – Ryan, and Sophie, that was it, and with both of them, they'd been proper relationships. Not this – one night stand. God, it seems nasty. Cheap. Dirty.

But while it's happening, it feels like the biggest _fuck you _to Sophie. Like _– you thought you mattered to me? Thought you changed me? Well, babe, you ain't changed nothin'._

It's her way of trying to get back to who she was before Sophie. Because before Sophie, she'd never thought about girls. She hadn't ever even thought about Sophie until Sophie'd kissed her out of the blue and opened her eyes. Changed her. _Ruined her._

Before Sophie everything had been so much easier. Simpler. But she finds out, while Patrick's unfastening her bra, breathing heavily into her neck, sliding his hand up her thigh – that there isn't any way back.

Because she might not ever have thought about Sophie before…but she can't stop thinking about her _now_.

All that though…it just makes her angrier. Because Sophie did all that – kissed her, made Sian fall in love with her, _changed her_…and for what? _Nothing_. Just to end up trampling Sian's heart into the dirt.

* * *

The first girl she sleeps with, after Sophie, it's worse. Because being with a girl feels familiar enough that it just makes Sian feel the differences between _this_ girl and Sophie even more sharply. Louise, her name is, and a mutual friend sets them up. "You two are _so _perfect for each other – I'm not even kidding. Promise me you'll text her?"

They go to a film and for chips afterwards, and it's alright. Nice. Louise is nice. So Sian thinks _why not? _It's not like she has a girlfriend any more, right? It's not like she has a _fiancée._

So on the third date, when Louise invites her up for coffee, Sian says okay.

In a way, this time, it feels like an even bigger _fuck you _to Sophie. Though Sian doesn't know why. It hurts more too, because it reminds her of Sophie, even though it's nothing like. Maybe _because_ it's nothing like.

She doesn't stay afterwards, even though Louise wants her to. She has a kind of weird mental breakdown, actually. The second it's over, she gets up because she can't stay there.

"Bathroom's just outside, on the left," Louise says, but Sian starts picking up her clothes and putting them on. "I don't need the bathroom," she says. "I've got to go home."

"You've got to go home?" Louise repeats. "Right _now?_"

She sounds disbelieving. It's awful, but Sian pulls up her jeans and says, "Yeah. I've got to go home."

"What – you mean…that's _it? _You got what you came for and now you're buggering off home? Well, that's _nice._"

Sian shakes her head, but all she can say is, "I've got to go home."

"Go on then – no-one's stopping you!" Louise says.

She hugs herself as she walks back to her place, like she's afraid her stomach will just fall out if she doesn't keep her arms protectively in front of her. But it's not until she turns the key in her own door and closes it behind her that she comes apart.

Because she'd wanted to go home, right from Louise's first kiss…but she hadn't meant a _place. _She slides down the door, keys still in her hand and starts to cry.

* * *

The next day, her friend Hannah, the one who'd set her up with Louise, comes round to scream at her. But when Sian opens the door, she takes in Sian's red, swollen eyes and says, "What happened to you, then? You look like you've been through the wars."

Sian shakes her head.

"I'm really cross, you know. That was _not_ on, what you did to Louise."

"I know," Sian says. "I'm sorry." Her mouth twists.

"All right, all right – I'm not going to have a go at you," Hannah says. "I _was, _but…look at the state of you. Come on."

She pulls Sian into the kitchen and makes her a cup of tea and makes her tell her the whole story, Sophie included.

"Wow," Hannah says, when she's finished. "I don't know what to say." She pushes her glasses up on her nose. "That's not your typical awful breakup. That's _epic, _that is."

Sian laughs a little, without humour, then wipes her sleeve across her eyes and says, "You know the worst part though?"

Hannah shakes her head.

"Even while I'm _hating _her and wishing I'd never met her – part of me really, really wants to talk to her about it."

"What? So you can tell her how you feel? That's normal."

Sian shakes her head a little, but doesn't answer, because it's weirder than that. There's all this bubbling, boiling anger inside her, directed straight at Sophie, which is just like it should be. But there's another part of her that wants to curl up against Sophie's shoulder and talk to her, tell her about this awful person that hurt Sian and broke her heart, and let Sophie comfort her. Like Sophie wasn't the same person who'd broken her heart in the first place.

* * *

It gets a bit better after that, because she's got Hannah, and Hannah listens to her whenever she needs to moan about Sophie. She doesn't do that all the time or anything – she's not that pathetic, but it's like all her feelings build up until there's so much pressure inside her that she has to let it out.

So every so often, Hannah ends up making her a cup of tea and letting her talk it out.

Hannah's a good friend. She's clever (like Sophie), and kind (like Sian used to think Sophie was), and she's just really together (_un_like Sophie, who was a total mess, a 24 hour crisis).

She's a really good friend. But…it's not like with Sophie, when they were friends. They don't look at each other and burst out laughing.

Sometimes, Sian thinks that's what she's angriest about. Her and Sophie had been _friends. _Not even friends like her and Hannah. _Best friends. _

_More _than that.

She'd said it to Sophie, hadn't she? Before they'd even kissed – she'd said, _**You** are more important to me than any lad, d'you hear me?_ And she'd meant it, every word.

They could have _kept _that. Sometimes Sian imagines it – this world where they'd both got married and had kids, but they phoned each other all the time, and met up for coffees and had special just-us-girls sun holidays once every year.

But instead, Sophie'd had to go and spoil it all.

Though, when she remembers those first kisses, something jumps in her stomach, twists like a knife in her chest, and she thinks _spoil _isn't the right word at all.

* * *

One time, she sleeps with a girl who reminds her of Sophie. She sleeps with her _because _this girl reminds her of Sophie. Herself and Hannah and some other friends are in a club and full on, under the lights, the girl isn't that much like Sophie.

But between the sheets and in the dark, her shape and hair and face are close enough that Sian can pretend. Close enough that she doesn't even feel embarrassed leaving the club, or worried about what Hannah or her friends will think.

It doesn't feel like it's happening now – she won't let it feel like that. She never pretends for even a second that it's now and she's with Sophie, because she would _never, _ever even speak to Sophie again after what she'd done, so sleeping with her would be totally out of the question.

She pretends that she's gone back in time though. That somehow, she's found a way back to the past, when things were good, before Sophie wrecked everything. And for one night, one night only, she lets herself love Sophie. Just love her.

The next morning, the girl puts her number into Sian's mobile, but as soon as she's outside, she deletes it.

A night is one thing – any more than that would just make her a pathetic saddo.

* * *

It gets better, of course, and she even manages to hang on to a couple of girlfriends for a while. Longer than a couple of dates or a one night stand, anyway.

The problem is – it just doesn't go away completely. Her feelings for Sophie are like – a page that's been written on with ink. Maybe it fades a little over time, but you can't erase it completely.

Sian can't erase it completely.

She finds herself talking to Sophie – not for real or anything, and not even out loud, because she's not a nutter. But sort of…inside her head, yeah.

Like, anytime she hears something funny and Hannah doesn't get it, part of her says to the memory of Sophie Webster in her head, 'You'd laugh at that. Wish I could tell you– but whose fault is it that I can't, eh?'

Or when Hannah changes her hair, chops it off and cuts a fringe – which frames her face nicely – a small part of Sian says, 'I don't think I liked it so much when you had a fringe. It didn't suit you.'

And whenever she picks up one of Hannah's books and skims the back of it, she thinks, 'You were so smart, Soph – remember your GCSE results? Clever. So much you could've done. But you're your own worst enemy – you know that?'

She wonders if Sophie's still there – in Weatherfield. Working in a shop (_the Corner Shop. Maybe alongside Amber. Very cosy_) – and even as the picture twists her stomach with bitterness, the worst part is, she's never going to _know_.

* * *

And then, on her birthday, Hannah kisses Sian. They've been out, and had a couple of drinks, but Hannah's not drunk. She says, very clearly before she leans in, "I'm probably going to regret this, but…" and she touches her lips to Sian's.

Afterwards, she says, "Weren't expecting that, were you?"

All Sian can do is shake her head and say, "No. I wasn't."

"Yeah. I didn't think so. Don't take this the wrong way," she says, with her usual bluntness, "but you're a bit rubbish at picking up signals."

Sian's never thought that, but maybe it's true. She'd never picked up on Sophie either, before she'd kissed her. The memory pokes her and she has to look away.

"Oh come on. It wasn't that bad, was it?" Hannah asks.

Sian looks at her. "It's not that. It's just…I never thought about it before."

"Maybe you should. Don't you think it's worth a try, at least?"

It's not at all romantic. But Hannah's not a very romantic person. She's straightforward and Sian likes her, and she's not Sophie.

"All right," she says.

* * *

And it's nice. It's good. It's a proper relationship – the kind of relationship two grown-ups would have (_hear that, Soph? Grown ups_). They move in together after a year, and it's, yeah…good.

Different, of course. But then, obviously it would be.

Just, no matter how good it is…it's like some part of Sian's expecting something else. Wanting something else.

It's stupid. Just because she and Hannah don't look at each other and crack up, like stupid, immature kids and just because no matter how much she cares about Hannah, it feels…duller, and less than what she felt for Sophie (the lying, cheating scumbag) – that doesn't mean that what she and Hannah have isn't real.

It is real. It's just…not what it should be.

Hannah knows it too, because one night, out of the blue, she says, "I love you."

Sian freezes in the middle of the floor. "What?"

"You heard me. I love you," Hannah says. She says it so matter-of-factly, the way she says everything, like she's just announced they need more milk or something.

Sian can't say it back. She stands in the middle of the floor, and if she ever hated Sophie, it's nothing to how she feels now, because she still loves her so much she can't say it back to her girlfriend of almost two years.

The silence ticks by and Hannah says, "The thing is, you're still hung up on Sophie."

Sian can't deny it, even though she hates that it's true.

"I can sort of understand it," she says. "I mean…she was your first. The first person you love is special."

Yeah. Except in Sian's case she'd turned out to be a special lying, cheating scumbag.

"But I don't think you love her anymore."

Sian frowned.

"I think, with everything that happened – everything she put you through…you just…built it up – how you felt. If you saw her again – talked to her…I bet you'd see that."

"Maybe," Sian says noncommittally, even while something in her chest rejects every single word.

"The thing is," Hannah says, and she takes Sian's hand in hers. "We can't move forward until you sort this. Because I'm not a Sophie-substitute, and I can't go on, feeling like I'm never going to live up to how you felt about her."

Sian looks at her. It's late, so she's taken her contacts out, and she's wearing her glasses, with the red frames. Her fringe is getting long. "I'm sorry," Sian says. "I didn't mean to make you feel like…like you didn't matter to me. You _do _matter to me."

"Good," Hannah says. "Then prove it. Show me. Sort this out. For both our sakes."

* * *

The second she steps off the bus and onto the Weatherfield cobbles, her stomach clenches tight. For a moment she hesitates, because she can hear herself say, so clearly, _You're the one that I love - no one else, not ever. _She can remember the feeling - like it's only just a hand-reach away...like it never left at all.

But she forces herself to think of Hannah - sensible, straightforward Hannah, who thinks Sian doesn't love Sophie anymore. Sian isn't sure she believes that herself, no matter how convincing Hannah's arguments had been. Still, she makes herself move forward.

Because Hannah's her future, and that means that she's got to sort out her past.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! It really encouraged me!**

* * *

She starts walking, but everywhere she turns, there's something that reminds her. Even the stupid bloody cobbles seem to hold memories – and her feet instinctively fall into the same pattern, retracing the same steps…like they remember too.

She walks quickly past the garage, eyes down. Two options – Dev and Sunita's, obviously, which…

Sophie.

Amber.

Sophie _and _Amber.

_No._

She turns by the Kabin and keeps walking.

Or, just as obviously, there's Sophie's house. Which…

She stops. A couple of women brush past her, and she half-looks away. She doesn't recognise them though, so it's okay. They don't even acknowledge her, as they chatter past. Sian crosses her arms and takes a couple of steps forward anyway, because she doesn't want to be clocked as some pathetic weirdo who just _stands_ in the middle of Weatherfield, gawping.

Of course, walking forward sends her straight in the direction of Sophie's house and her throat tightens as she remembers – _everything _(kissing on the couch, tea on the stairs, Sophie's room and _"Stay with me tonight"_ and the end of the whole entire world, wearing a stupid flouncy wedding dress) _– _and _NO _again. It jerks through her whole body, not even a negative, but a complete rejection.

She's back to standing for a few moments, frozen. For a second, she has the wildest idea to go back – get on the next bus and tell Hannah that yeah, she saw Sophie, and everything's straightened out now, and they can just go on with their lives and it's all gonna be completely fine from here on out and Sian'll be the best girlfriend ever, promise, no more thinking about lying, cheating scumbags, she swears…

Only – she can't. That feels like running away. Maybe because it is. And whatever it is she feels for Sophie – Sian can't let her chase her off like that. It feels a bit too much like running away to Southport. Well, Sian's not that scared kid anymore, and maybe – maybe Hannah's right, and she needs to show Sophie that, once and for all.

She takes a breath and moves forward, chin up.

Suddenly, there's a familiar voice behind her, calling out, "Sian? _Sian? _Is that you?"

All her resolve crumbles and she actually considers running for a second, to hell with dignity, but instead she slowly turns around.

Rosie Webster advances on her, navigating the cobbles in pin-sharp high heels. For a desperate moment, Sian wishes for her to fall and hit her head and like, get amnesia or something. "Oh my god, it _is_ you!" Rosie says instead.

"Last I checked, yeah," Sian cracks weakly. Her throat is very dry.

"How are you? Where've you been?" Rosie asks, but just as Sian opens her dust-dry mouth to answer, Rosie catches hold of her shoulders and says, "Never mind – just...stay right where you are! Don't move!"

Rosie goes flying back the way Sian just came, windmilling her way into the Kabin. Sian turns her back, and fumbles in her pocket for her mobile. Her fingers shake as she presses Hannah's number, because she knows what's coming (_who _is coming) and she suddenly can't believe that she was stupid enough to come here, to put herself through this.

When Hannah picks up on the first ring with a cheery, "Hey babe!" she immediately hisses, "I'm gonna kill you! I can't do this. What am I even doing here? Just - _no_. I can't."

"Sian - slow down. What's the matter? What's Sophie said?"

"Nothing yet. I haven't met her, but"-

"You haven't even met her, and you're already carrying on like this?" Hannah sounds a bit unimpressed.

"Well what did you expect?" Sian shoots back. She rubs her hand across her forehead. "I can't believe you're making me do this."

"Hey!" The offended tone of Hannah's voice cuts through her panic somewhat. "No-one _made _you do anything. I don't remember putting you on that bus at gunpoint. I remember us having a discussion and both agreeing that this was the right thing to do. For _us. _Or have you forgotten?"

"No," Sian says, pacing around. She looks back in the direction Rosie Webster vanished and says, "This is just...really hard for me." The words sound thin and whiny, and they don't communicate at all the way her stomach feels like it's on a spin cycle.

"I know," Hannah says. Even though there's no way she can. "And I'm dead proud of you, Sian. Love you."

There's a sudden commotion and Sophie Webster emerges from the Kabin, followed by Rosie, who keeps pushing her.

"Yeah," Sian says over the rushing in her ears. "I'll - talk to you later." And there aren't words for how angry she is at Sophie in that moment, because there's just no way she can say "I love you" to her girlfriend of almost two years while she's looking straight at the girl who broke her heart.

Who hasn't even noticed her yet.

"All right, all right! I'm here! What is it?" she demands of Rosie. "Whatever it is - it better be quick - Norris'll kill me if he sees" -

She finally looks up "-Sian."

She sounds as stunned as Sian feels. Which isn't fair because Sian'd been _expecting _(dreading) seeing Sophie…so she shouldn't feel this blindsided. But Sophie's eyes are like spotlights and so blue and she feels this awful clench of helpless anger. It almost makes her double over with the pain. A ruptured appendix has _nothing_ on a ruptured heart.

"Sian," Sophie says again, in a softer voice. She takes a step toward her, then stops. "What – what you doing here?"

Sian looks away. Suddenly, she knows that there's _no way, no way _she can tell Sophie that she's here for _her. _To talk, or to scream at her, or to heal old wounds. She'd rather _die_ than let Sophie know how big a shadow she's cast on Sian's life.

"It's a free country, isn't it?" she says instead. She means it to sound casual, but the words snap out hostilely. "No reason I can't stop here for a bit, is there?"

"No," Sophie says. She sounds thrown. "That's not – I didn't mean it like…just…"

"I'm just passing through," Sian says. It sounds incredibly stupid to her, but she's rescued from any more awkward questions by the most unlikely of saviours.

Rosie Webster makes an annoyed sound in the back of her throat and says, "Honestly, Sophie, does it matter _why _she's here? Are you really going to waste your time standing out in the street and giving Sian the fourth degree?"

"The third degree, you mean," Sophie says absently. Her eyes stay locked on Sian's, and Rosie throws up her arms in exasperation. "She is _such _a lesbian," she says to Sian. "Always focused on the _mechanics _of things!"

She flicks her hands at them. "Go! Get a cup of coffee…catch up. It's been _ages…_you two must have _loads _to talk about."

"D'you want to?" Sophie asks.

_No. _

She shrugs. "Doesn't matter to me."

Sophie doesn't smile, but her whole face seems to open up. "All right," she says, a bit hesitant. She takes a step backwards, still looking at Sian. "I'll just – I'll go and tell Norris" –

"I'll do it!" Rosie says. She smiles widely at them and shoos them along.

They end up in Roy's Rolls. There are a few people there already, sitting at the small tables, but there's no queue.

"What d'you want?" Sophie asks.

"Just some tea," Sian says, then immediately adds, as Sophie begins to root in her jeans pocket, "But I'll get my own."

"It's all right," Sophie says. "It's only" –

"No thanks. I'll get my own," Sian repeats, because no way is she ever accepting another thing from Sophie Webster – not an apology, not a loan of a hairclip, not even a cup of tea.

So they pay separately and find a table. Sian busies herself with the milk jug. Even though she's not looking up, she can feel Sophie's eyes on her. When she can't use her too-milky tea as an excuse anymore, and eventually puts down her teaspoon, Sophie finally catches her eyes and asks, slowly, carefully, "So…how've you been?"

"Fine," she says, making sure she doesn't blink. "You?"

"Alright," Sophie says, after the briefest pause. "I suppose."

Sian forces herself to take a sip of her tea.

"What…what you doing now?"

"Beauty therapy," Sian says. "Bliss Salon in Salford."

"Yeah?" Sophie asks.

"I'm just a trainee, but" -

"No, that's brilliant," Sophie says, and Sian has to bite her tongue and stare down at her cup to prevent herself from saying something nasty. It's not like she needs or wants Sophie's approval. Only the thought that if she snaps, Sophie will know she's getting to her keeps her voice even and her expression blank.

"D'you like it?" Sophie asks.

Sian shrugs. "S'alright." She makes herself ask, "What about you? You're working in the Kabin now?"

Instead of Corner Shop, with its hot and cold running Amber…remains unsaid. But it's clear from Sophie's careful, hesitant words that she's aware of the subtext.

"Yeah," Sophie says. "It – Rita…she sort of…took me under her wing a while back." She shrugs a bit, self-deprecating. "Said she and Norris needed shaking up. She sort of bullied him into taking me, to be honest."

Sian doesn't say anything. She's not going to tell Sophie that it's brilliant. Because it's not. She feels a weird mix of satisfaction and disappointment at the revelation that Sophie is still wasting her potential.

Sophie turns her mug in between her hands, staring down at it. "Sian," she says, "Why are you here?"

Sian fights the urge to flinch at the question, no matter how gently Sophie asks it.

Sophie looks up. "I mean – don't get me wrong…I'm glad to see you…" she trails off for a moment before continuing in a low voice, "Just…I wouldn't have thought you'd ever want to see me again."

_Got it in one,_ Sian thinks. But she tips her chin up and says, "It don't matter to me. Not anymore." And, because she can't help herself – because she wants to flaunt this pretence of okayness and have Sophie believe it, she finds herself saying, "I was telling my girlfriend about – all this…you…and suddenly it hit me. It really doesn't matter to me anymore."

"So – what? You came back to – prove it?" Sophie says, slowly.

Sian shrugs. Her face hurts from keeping it locked in a bland expression, trying not to frown.

"All right," Sophie says. And, "All right," again, even lower. "What" – she clears her throat, "What's her name? Your girlfriend," she clarifies unnecessarily.

"Hannah." Sian takes a long, measured sip of her tea. She feels a vicious kind of satisfaction.

Sophie nods, keeps doing it, like she doesn't even realise. "Nice," she says. "Hannah. That's a…nice name."

She chokes back the sarcastic, _So glad you like it, Soph, _that wants to come out of her mouth. Instead she forces her mouth into a polite, indifferent smile. Like Sophie's just some random stranger.

Sophie looks down and plays with her cup, and suddenly, the door of Roy's Rolls opens again, and Rosie enters, all wide smiles and cleavage. She clicks her way over to them, and pulls up a seat. "So…how's it going?" she asks, like she expects them to immediately announce a reunion. Which would never happen anyway – but definitely not after a twenty minute chat in a cheap café. Rosie might be that easy, but Sian's not.

"Fine," Sophie mutters.

"Has Sophie caught you up on everything?" Rosie asks.

"Yeah," Sophie says, deadpan. "In fifteen minutes, I told Sian everything that happened in the last couple of years. Absolutely everything."

Rosie rolls her eyes. "It's _your _life we're talking about. You should've had time left over." She leans over and whispers to Sian, "She's not exactly Miss Excitement, you know."

She pushes back in her chair, and stretches out her hands on the table, very deliberately. The glint of the enormous ring on her finger is something Sian can't miss at such close quarters. "But – she's told you all the important things…right?"

"Congratulations," Sian says.

"Thanks." Rosie preens. "His name is Michael, and he's in shipping and he's _stinking _rich" –

"Not that that matters," Sophie mutters under her breath.

"He proposed six months ago, and it's been _mental _ever since. I mean – I can't believe how much work there is in planning a wedding."

The word 'wedding' crashes onto the table, and Rosie claps a hand over her mouth, "Ohmygod – I'm sorry! I didn't mean" –

"It's alright," Sian says. To her relief, her voice comes out steady. "It doesn't matter."

"Really?" Rosie says. "You're seriously all right about…" She trails off, but makes a face that perfectly expresses, 'finding out on your wedding day that my sister was cheating on you with a girl you thought of as a friend.'

"It's fine," Sian assures her. Her stomach feels like a rock.

"Oh – in that case, you should come to _my _wedding! I'm serious!"

"Rosie," Sophie says. "Sian probably don't want to come."

"Why not? It's going to be the wedding of the year. No expense spared. It's gonna be mega-amazing." She smiles at Sian. "I'd love it if you came. You can sit with Sophie – it'll be like old times!"

"I don't think" – Sian begins, because the last thing on _earth _that she wants is to spend a wedding by Sophie's side.

"It's not like that," Sophie tells Rosie in a low voice.

"Don't be so sensitive – I know you two have a history, but Sian says it's fine."

"Rosie – give it up. Sian _really_ doesn't want to go, all right?"

Except – the only thing that outweighs her desire to not spend one single extra second in Sophie's company is her determination to show Sophie that she doesn't _care _anymore.

"It doesn't matter to _me_, Sophie," she says, before turning to Rosie. "I'd love to go – if you want me."

Rosie turns a triumphant smile in Sophie's direction. "There. See – not everyone lives in the past. Sometimes, people move on…and start focusing on the future."

She smirks at Sian, stopping just shy of winking. Sian wants to tell her – _as if. _A future with Sophie? With the girl who'd strung her along and cheated on her and humiliated her in front of everyone on their wedding day? _No chance._

But instead, she finishes her tea, and looks at Sophie's bowed head. It doesn't feel quite like the closure Hannah had in mind…

…it does feel a little bit like victory, though.


End file.
